Joke's on You
by tieYOURmotherDOWN
Summary: Bruce Wayne is convinced that there's something else waiting for him, Pamela Isley and Edward Nigma are living proof of that. Harleen Quinzel is bored with life, and unfortunately the Joker has big plans for her. Major TDK Spoilers! FINISHED.
1. You Drive Me

Bruce watched the snow form in the sky from behind the windows of his penthouse. The towering sky scrapers of Gotham city only added to the spectacular sight before him. It would've been breathtaking, if Mr. Wayne had actually been paying any attention. He was in a sort of trance really, painful thoughts, recollections of the past few month had begun to rot in his mind.

Rachel, Harvey Dent, the Joker. He didn't know where to go from here. Rachel and Harvey were dead, and the Joker had been put away; not in a cell, but a padded room with a straight jacket. As if that would hold him. Bruce knew it wouldn't.

"What's next for me Alfred?" He said aloud as the distinct sounds of his faithful Butlers footsteps were noticed. "Scarecrow. The Joker. What's next for me? What else does Gotham have to offer?"

Alfred set Bruce's breakfast on the table in front of him. "You talk like Gotham is always under attack."

"There's always something out there. But this times, I don't know what I'm looking for." He looked down at his mask. Always.

"I don't know either, sir. But I think that you should enjoy the peace and quiet while you can, before something new comes along." Alfred gave his opinions and left the room without another word.

Bruce stared out the window with a look of annoyance on his face. He would have to go hunting. He needed to find someone. There had to be some villain out there, willing to strike now that they had the opportunity.

Gotham needed protecting, and not even the Batman knew what from.

* * *

"Ms. Quinzel-" the voice was muffled and went unnoticed by Harleen as she daydreamed about escaping her personal prison; often referred by school staff, other upperclassmen, and "mature" adults, as "school".

"Ms. Quin-" The seventeen-year-old yawned, staring absent-mindedly out the window at her friends ditching. She tugged on the strings of her hat and glanced up at the clock. 1:20. "Jesus, hurry up." Harleen shook herself out of her daze, noticing the vein bulging out of her teachers left temple.

"Uhm…" She tried to explain.

"Save it, " Mr. Jansen muttered with a small sigh, and then in a louder voice he said, "Hand in your tests, class." His voice boomed as he looked down at her with a glare. She's finished her test 10 minutes before, she chose to ignore him.

The remaining 20 minutes of class were spent planning out the way to spent the remainder of her day.

Seeping

Eating

Her needs would be easily met.

Later...

As she rummaged through her locker after class, she overheard random bits of conversations.

"How long do you think it'll be before the Joker makes a break for it?"

"Jake, you're sick."

"The news said there's another killer on the loose-"

Harleen rolled her eyes, shoving her chemistry textbook In her locker.

"They call her… uh…"

"I can't remember,"

"It was poison… something."

"Poison Ivy, that's it!"

The conversation consisted of eight different people repeating what they'd heard on the news.

"Are you sure Ivy was the killer? The news was also talking about someone else, like, the… the Riddler or… something."

"That's dumb."

"Yeah, he's just a Joker wannabe."

Harleen slammed her locker shut and retreated to the busses.


	2. Crazy

Bruce fell into a pattern. He did Batman stuff from 9pm-2am, passed out until 11am, did Bruce Wayne stuff until 6pm, and spent the remaining 3 hours of his day doing whatever. Sometimes he hosted a party, sometimes he tried to get in extra sleep (like he was now), or sometimes (and he did this most often) he watched himself in his mirror, contemplating on whether or not it was all worth it.

At 7:42pm Bruce woke up unable to breathe. He took in a painful deep breath and fell into a coughing fit. His lungs were frozen. Despite his constant cough, he pulled himself upright and set his bare feet on the floor, only to pull them back instantly as a deep chill surged through him. He saw that his floor was covered in a thick layer of crunchy glistening snow.

_Where had it come from? _Bruce looked out the large windows. It wasn't snowing, it wasn't even raining. He turned on his lamp and looked around at the blanket of snow in his bedroom. He looked over and found his door open.

He was speechless, and quickly scrambled out of the room into his hallway. The rest of the house was snow-free. It was only in his room. He turned on the hall light, still puzzled. Someone had to have done this. None of the windows even opened. What confused him even more was how he managed to sleep through it all.

* * *

The next morning Harleen was on her laptop emailing Arkham Asylum about an internship. She couldn't help it, she was just so bored. She sighed and clutched her mug of Hot Chocolate as she re-read over her seven paragraph email.

"I'm nuts." She muttered to herself, realizing what she was asking of them. She yawned and took a sip of her drink. Earlier in the week Arkham Asylum was officially offering internships to students who planned for careers in the psychiatric department. Harleen was never really interested in it, but the words "Paid Internship" really caught her eye and she decided to look into it.

She specifically asked to watch the Joker. She watched the news, she heard the stories, but she wasn't scared. She was curious. She bobbed her head up and down as she read, approving of the wording, and nervously clicked the send button and waited.

No more than five minutes later her phone began to ring. Arkham Insane Asylum was calling her. "Hello?" She asked into the phone, spinning slowly around in her chair.

It was silent for a few moments before a woman's voice responded. "Hello, this is Charlotte Epping from Arkham Asylum in downtown Gotham, is a miss… Harleen Quinzel there?" Harleen was suddenly grateful that her mother hadn't answered, "This is she…"

"Oh! Hello Ms. Quinzel, we recently received an email requesting an internship here, by you. Is that correct?" The woman laughed nervously.

"Yes."

"Good, good. Um… You also mentioned wanting to work with the Joker…" Charlotte stuttered out the word as if he was standing right next to her with a blade threatening to skin her alive if she didn't do this.

"Yeah-" Harleen was getting impatient, the woman really didn't have to repeat every word on the email for confirmation.

"Well, I must warn you that so far the Joker has been through four different students like yourself. The first two killed themselves, the third is in prison, and the last one went crazy and is in here himself."

"Uhm… that's… that's great. So does that mean I get to do this or what?"

One again the phone went quiet, until Charlottes laughter broke the silence. It wasn't nervous like before. It was more like she was laughing at her.

"And I thought I was crazy," Harleen muttered to herself away from the mouth piece.

* * *

According to the instructions the crazy woman had given her, Harleen was to go straight to Arkham right after school. She could do that. She just needed to find a way to make it through the day.

She settled for poker with some of the kids in the back of the classroom.

Afterwards she walked towards Arkham with a knot in her stomach. As soon as she reached the building she was so nervous that her palms began to sweat and her heart was racing. But the whole "paid internship" thing reared its ugly head and she pressed on.


	3. I Just Can't Sleep

Harleen was greeted almost immediately, "Ms. Quinzel, right?" A tall freckled redhead asked. Harleen nodded and her fears melted away.

"I'm Charlotte Epping, you'll be helping me…" she searched for the word, "maintain… the Joker over the next few weeks."

This time Harleen added a smile to her nod while Charlotte mumbled the word 'good' and led her to the Joker.

Two left turns, three flights of stairs, and seven snack machines later, Harleen and Charlotte stood outside the Jokers room.

"Now, I don't know how he's going to react to having a different person in the room. So be careful, don't let your guard down, and don't show any emotion whatsoever, do you understand me?"

Harleen nodded again, "You aren't coming in with me?" Her voice cracked and she felt small, like she'd shrunk three feet and Charlotte was looking down on her like she was a tiny ant.

"Oh, no, no. No… no." She seemed to laugh like she'd lost her mind. And then Harley remember, this was the crazy woman from before, the one who called her. Freak.

"Then why did you say I'd be helping you?!" Harleen wanted to shout.

"I don't know, but here. Give him these pills and talk about whatever for however long you want." Crazy Woman raced away before Harleen could respond.

Harleen bent down to pick up the key that Charlotte had chucked to the ground just before she ran.

Now Harley was scared.

She slid the key into the hole and twisted it around a few times before it unlocked and she entered.

The first thing she noticed was that the lights were too bright. The second was a man sitting a corner with his back to her.

"Back again, are we?" He asked. She could tell he was being smug about it. He thought that coming back had been a mistake. He also thought that she was Charlotte.

"Not exactly." She responded, setting eight orange pill containers on the counter sick.

The Joker spun around quickly with a genuine look of pure joy on his face. "Oh goody! Fresh meat."

He stood up and darted over to her before she even realized what he'd done. She screamed when he was suddenly right in her face. "Shh…" He mock soothed and stepped closer to that their shoes touched and he was towering over her. "So tell me princess, what's your name?" His voice rasped as he ran his fingers threw her blond pigtails.

She stepped back with a glare, "Harleen Quinzel."

"Ho, ho. Feisty, aren't we? There was another one like you, April… Sinclair. Threw herself in front of the morning school bus when I was done with her." He smiled, revealing his yellow/brown teeth.

Harleen looked up at his in horror and the Joker thought he'd scared her out of her wits. "Who in the hell would want to die THAT early?!"

He looked at her in curiosity for a split second before deciding that he would enjoy this new toy.

* * *

Pamela Isley woke up alone. Like always. She stretched her arm out to feel the lonely space next to her. The emptiness beneath her finger tips. She got up lazily, but immediately screamed and flung herself back into the safety of her bed. With the sun shining through her bedroom window, she saw that her entire floor was covered in a thick sheet of snow.

"What the fu-" Her almost outrage was interrupted by the voice of her little sister Sibel.

"Pam, get off your fat butt and-" Sibel stopped dead in her tracks. "Why is there snow in your room?"

"I have no clue…"

"Mom!"

The 22-year-old huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She really needed to move out. "Sibel! Ooh… goddammit. You are so dead."

"Yes sweetheart?"

"If Pamela can have snow on her floor why can't I?"


	4. I'm So Excited

_This was going to be good._

The Riddler remembered thinking those words only the night before as he planned his latest scheme. Game Show. He pulled together 10 random contestants, got together a camera crew, and even picked himself out a snazzy new lime green suit covered in black question marks. His matching green fedora had 'Guess What?' written in back on one side., and on the other was 'I'm Back'.

Perhaps it wasn't his wittiest moment, but he needed the world to know it. Anyway, the Game Show would make up for in completely.

Before he knew it, the camera was rolling. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls!" He announced. "Do we have a show for you tonight! Now, if you haven't noticed by now, my show is airing on every single channel."

He smiled with a crazed look in his eyes. "I've pulled together a camera crew," he spun the large camera around to face the crew. Each person had duct tape wrapped around their entire heads, only their eyes and noses were uncovered. He began again, "If you'll notice," he zoomed in, "that on each of their wrists is a jigsaw puzzle... bracelet… thing. If they figure it out before our hour's up, they're free to leave. However, if the puzzle is finished the wrong way, then it'll blow them up. If they wait the full hour, they will still blow up."

The Riddler spun the camera back to him, "But that's not all! I promise!. We have 10 contestants who have agreed to partake in my wonderfully disturbing Game!" Each contestant was cuffed, glued, and duct taped to their chairs.

"Round One will be a series of Truth or Dare questions, where half will be eliminated. And by eliminated, I mean they will be given jigsaw puzzles of their own, but in the end they'll die anyway!" He laughed until there were tears streaming down his face.

The Riddler broke his contestants into two groups and started with the first group. He chose a busty redhead with freckles and glasses. "Everyone, this is Charlotte Epping! I found her walking to Gotham General to visit her sick grandfather!"

He looked down at her, "Charlotte, truth or dare?"

His smile was crooked and forced. The redhead looked into the camera with her eyes practically bulging out of her skull. "D-dare." Her voice shook.

"Oh, Charlotte. I'm so proud of you for being brave. But first, tell me, What's heaving, steaming, and will be the death of you?" He grinned eagerly awaiting her answer.

"I don't know!" She said in between sobs. She knew she was going to die.

"Your Dinner," he answered the riddle, and immediately a crew member showed up with a bowl and a spoon.

"What's that?!" She shouted, shaking violently, trying to wiggle herself free. The chair toppled over and there was a definite crack. Her neck, but she was still alive.

She was crying harder. Her eyes fluttered open and the camera was in her face. The Riddler took a heaping spoonful of whatever was in the bowl and slipped it into her mouth, demanding that she swallow.

Charlotte did as she was told just as something in the studio blew up. The camera spun back around, but nothing was there. One of the other crew members didn't finish the puzzle right.

Suddenly she started gagging and wheezing, but when the camera turned back to face her, Charlotte Epping was dead.

"Hmm… Lead poisoning. Terrible thing, poor girl. Wish I could've done something to save her… oh well!" He smiled again and turned to another contestant.

"Tyler Hanza, truth or dare?"

* * *

The Batman cursed as he searched for where the Riddlers game show was being aired. He staked out a few places in Gotham, but he couldn't trace the shows signal back to anything.

He didn't know what to do.


	5. I'm In Too Deep

"I've decided to give you a nickname." The Joker stated, the following afternoon.

Harleen had spent two hours with him the previous day, and warmed up to him almost instantly, which was weird because he was a crazed psychopathic murderer. At this statement, she rolled her eyes. "I'm not your pet. I'm not your toy. You don't own me." She scoffed, quickly regretting her choice of words.

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow and walked over to her. His face was pale. And he was beautiful, in her eyes. He couldn't wear his make-up in here. All he had access to was water and pills.

Harleen was sitting on the counter with her legs crossed, looking at pictures on her camera. He grabbed her by the throat, digging his fingers into her and slamming her against the wall behind her until she started to gasp for breath and there were tears streaming down her cheeks.

The Joker pulled her off the counter and let her dangle. A rotten grin forming as he felt the panic rising in her. Her heart racing, her labored breathing, the tears, the desperation…

"Stop!" She begged, kicking her feet and clawing at his hands, trying to pull his fingers off her throat.

And then he dropped her, but caught her just before she hit the ground and pulled her close to him. "Now," He licked his lips with an evil grin, "about that nickname…"

Her eyes were glassy and she gasped for air. After a minute of looking awkwardly into each others eyes, Harleen jerked up and hopped back onto the counter. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

He loved how she always got so panicky whenever he did something to her, and then acted like nothing had happened when it was over. He especially loved the bruises already forming on the nape of her neck.

"Harley Quinn." He said and flopped back onto his bed.

"Why?"

"It suits you."

"How so?"

"Sweetness, don't ask questions."

Harley smirked, "Why not?"

"Because I might answer them."

* * *

When Harley walked out of Arkham she was greeted by towering darkness.

"What's your name?" The raspy voice boomed.

"Harleen Quinzel." Harley replied. She knew that she was speaking to none other than the Dark Knight himself. Or at least, he had been at one time.

"What are you doing out here?"

Harley smirked. She didn't know why, but it felt appropriate. "I watch the Joker." She felt like laughing.

Batman seemed to ponder her response for a few moments, "This late?"

"I've been here since 2:30."

"It's seven."

Harley brushed past him, getting bored with the conversation.

"Need a ride?"

Harley scoffed and walked faster, "I'm not allowed to talk to strangers."

"You're Seventeen."

"Well, if you're offering…" She stopped dead in her tracks, waiting for a response. But he was gone.

She erupted in laughter. Any bystander would've wondered why she wasn't in Arkham herself. She laughed until her stomach hurt and danced her way home.

* * *

Edward Nigma, a.k.a the Riddler, loved his name.

He always signed his name E. Nigma, and loved the looks of confusion he received, wondering what he was getting at.

His mother has been a clever woman. His father hated everything. Everything but football and beer. Edward spent his childhood doing crossword puzzles, watching Game Shows, and making up jokes and riddles with his mother. However, once High School and College rolled around, his father took over. Edward Nigma was forced into the world of sports and hated it.

He murdered his father at the age of 24. His mother still lived in a small Metropolis suburb with her cat Chester.

_Selma and Elmer Nigma. _

Edward still visited the 51-year-old every weekend.

He loved her very much.

* * *

**Authors Note: I probably could've done better on this Chapter. I can't put my finger on it, but to me it feels like something's off. I don't know. Reviews Please! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like and such. Oh, and if you find any grammar or spelling mistakes, tell me. 'Cause I don't even check before I post.  
**

xDDD -tieYOURmotherDOWN

* * *


	6. Woah Oh Oh

"I kind of like this guy right now." Harley confessed to the teachers aid. She sat in the front row of her Calculus class with her chin rested in her palm. She was beginning to doze off and decided to occupy herself by talking to the nearest person.

The Teacher's aid cracked her jaw, lazily flipping through a random fashion magazine, "Uh-huh."

"Wanna know his name?" she caught herself as her eyelids began to droop.

The woman glared into the distance and groaned, turning back to the article she was reading. "Sure." she droned, not caring.

Harley yawned, "I can't tell you." she turned back to the teacher's aid, holding back her smirk. The woman's hair was a chocolate brown with blond highlights. She had luminous green eyes and full lips, which at the moment held a very disgusted scowl.

"Hmm… that's nice."

Harley's eyes began to droop again. _'Must… stay… AWAKE.' _ "Do you like anyone?"

The woman nodded tiredly.

"What's his name?"

"Jonathan."

Harley turned back to the problems she had written on her paper. "What's your name?" she tapped her pen against the edge of the desk rather loudly. It echoed throughout the entire room. No one noticed.

"Pamela Isley." Pamela sighed and closed the magazine, reaching for another one from inside the desk she was sitting at.

Harley smiled, "Well, dear Pamela," she began with newfound energy pumping through her veins, "does he like you back?"

"It wouldn't matter," she said coldly, "I could probably kill him. Or he could kill me. We would both hallucinate, suffocate, and eventually perish into oblivion."

_'This girl talked about death like it was nothing._' but eventually she looked back at her paper and relaxed a bit, "But at least you'd die together."

Pamela nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I guess."

Pamela and Harley were too busy trying to keep themselves from falling asleep to notice the boy sitting behind them, listening to their every word.

"What ARE you guys talking about?!" he almost yelled in shock. Once again, the rest of the class took no notice.

Harley turned around,

"Your mom."

* * *

"What is with this weather?" Edward Nigma asked aloud with a small laugh. He stood in the door frame of his bedroom, looking in. It was mid morning, but he was still dressed in light green pajama pants and a matching question mark patterned green robe.

So he was a little full of himself, what of it?

However, the Riddler's choice of sleepwear wasn't what was so shocking that January morning. He'd woken up with the feeling of being trapped. Upon closer inspection he found snow, a snowman, and even blocks of ice barricading the entryway shut. He was now looking at the remains. Frosty slush, ice chunks, and pools of water all throughout his home.

He wasn't angry, confused, or even a little eager to find out who or what had caused this permanent damage to his flooring. E. Nigma actually found the whole situation amusing. He knew who it was.

Suddenly he heard footsteps. Edward turned around to face the intruder.

"Take a wild guess."


	7. Crazy Part Deux

Harley woke up the next morning with a package at the foot of her bed. It was partially torn apart, duct taped in pointless places, and looked like it had been kicked repeatedly. Actually, it looked more like it had survived a nuclear bombing, She didn't have time to waste.

She jumped out of bed and put on her black-rimmed glasses, to eager to put in her contacts. She bent down on her knees and opened it cautiously, peering in to see what was inside.

Harley furrowed her brows as she pulled out the full-body one piece.

It looked hideous, to say the least.

But Harley shrugged it off and dug deeper into the poor excuse for a box.

She shook her head with a slight smile and sat back to look at her Harlequin costume once more. She should've known. It looked slightly less hideous as it had the first time. She picked it up and jogged into the bathroom to take a shower.

Harley stepped out dressed in her costume, painted fingernails, black lips, a white painted face with black all around her eyes. She put on her matching jester hat and looked ready to kill.

A gift from the Joker.

But she didn't know how.

Inside the box was a fully loaded gun, an already bloodied knife, and at least fifty decks worth of Joker cards.

Harley picked up the gun as a tear rolled down her cheek. "He knows me so well." And at that moment, Harley Quinn was born, and she was in love.

* * *

The sirens were going, but he was miles away, hiding out in Metropolis for the time being. How? That wasn't important. But what was, were the hundreds of military machinery lying in the back of the steel-armored car he'd recently jacked. He drove at a steady speed. Batman was one thing, but Superman was a completely different thing entirely. Metropolis was Superman and Lex Luthers' turf. He didn't need some freak show with superpowers holding him down. Yes. Even the Joker had limits.

* * *

Hours later, Harley Quinn was on the prowl.

She'd already slit a few throats on her way to the park. Allt hat anyone would ever need to know, was that she was the newbie. Harley Quinn was an attention hog and she didn't need anyone stealing her thunder.

"Well," a deep voice began to her left. Her gun was cocked, "What do we have here?" Sure, he said it, but didn't really seem intrested. She stiffled a laugh.

He cracked his neck and inched closer. "The Joker left me with a message for you." they cleared their throat and sniffled.

Harley rolled her eyes and smirked, "Just why would he leave a message with you?!" She threw her head abck and exploded in laughter. The man laughed lightly as well, taking in her presence, enjoying every millisecond of this.

"He never wanted you, you know. You will be known as the short-lived accomplice, quite literally. The Joker has some pretty high standards, and you, you just didn't make the cut. But he wants me. He chose me. Someone who'll keep Gotham living in fear until the day it burns." He came into view, slowly but surely. Harley couldn't believe this. How could the joker choose him over her? It didn't make sense. The joker would never do that to her. He loved her. Right?

The man pulled a Joker cards from his pocketand stood behind her now, looking down. Dying for a reaction.

_Sorry Princess._

The hair, the ridiculously painted face, the red lips, the stupid green suit, the- "Riddler," she gasped, even surprising herself. She felt a gun pressing into her temple, and he fired, but she fired first and sent him flying and ducked before the speeding bullet had time to even come near her.

After calming herself down from the adrenaline rush, she shakily walked over and examined him. _Clean in the windpipe._

And then, of all things, she hand-standed her way to his gun and ran home with it and the Joker card.

_Fuel this Flame._

* * *

Sorry if this chapter seems sort of rushed, and that I haven't updated in weeks (literally).

This one is pretty much that halfway point- just to let you know now.


	8. But it feels Alright

_'The Riddler is Dead._' read the headline.

Harley couldn't help but smile as she read the front page story. She bit her lip to stop laughing hysterically. She would've done cartwheels if she wasn't already in the hallway, walking towards her class with Pamela. Harley had swiped the newspaper from her previous teachers desk after catching a glance of the once-college-professors corpse on the front page.

Her heart raced as she reached her hand out to turn the knob. Harley hadn't even noticed her trembling hands until the door opened abruptly and she stared dumbstruck and bug-eyed at the area where the knob had previously been.

"Honey, are you alright?" Pamela Isley asked in concern as she looked down at the frightened high school student. Harley's eyes began to water as she shook violently. Pamela's eyes traveled down to the newspaper hanging loosely from Harley's fingers, and she knew what had happened.

"Come to my house after school." was all she said, and jotted down her address on a random piece of paper.

* * *

"Poison Ivy?"

Pamela nodded, stirring the tea in her old coffee mug around with a spoon.

"You're Poison Ivy?!" she said incredulously.

Pamela nodded again with a slight laugh. "And you're Harley Quinn."

Harley raised an eyebrow.

"You were trembling terribly, holding that newspaper article. Darling, It's all over the news. With the Joker supposedly in hiding, you'll be able to achieve everything that there is to achieve in this sad little city. I've been watching you."

"Would you help me?" Harley blurted out. Pamela stifled a laugh, taking a seat next to Harley. She crossed her legs and took a sip of her tea.

"What exactly do you want me to help you with?"

Harley cracked her jaw, "Gotham needs to burn."

Pamela nodded in agreement, "Before Gotham was here, there was a thick, lush green forest. It was burned to the ground. Several creatures were thrown into extinction. This city and it's people have brought nothing but trouble."

She took another sip of her tea, "But are you sure that this isn't just some way to get your… honey bunny back?" she asked with a smirk.

Harley's smile was twisted and raw, "Are you gonna help me or what?"

Pamela raised her eyebrows, "Sure." she muttered, taking another sip.

* * *

_The next day _

Harleen had officially gone bonkers, but there was no turning back now.

"How dare he!" She screamed out the window of her apartment, scaring the pigeons and doves away.

"He did this to me! He- he," She couldn't even find the words to express her hatred. It was a good thing her family wasn't around to witness her psychotic breakdown. She would have to kill them. The thought brought a smile to her face, and then she toppled over in fits of laughter.

"I could never kill someone! Not again!" The thought of committing another murder seemed hilarious to her. And then another thought crossed her mind and she stopped laughing.

"Could I?"

She thought of the Harlequin costume in the back of her closet, and then the box of Joker cards underneath her bed, and then the gun with the question mark-shaped bullets that she'd stolen from the Riddler in her dresser drawer.

It just seemed too easy.

_Harley Quinn_

* * *

They started with the school, in broad daylight. They were dressed to impress.

Ivy sported a forest green dress that went down mid thigh, she wore what looked like green go-go boots, and she let her hair run wild. Harley wore her harlequin costume with a matching jesters hat, eyes made up to look severely sleep-deprived and bruised, and the rest of her face powdered a ghostly white. Ivy looked deranged and rabid, with her hair flying around madly. Harley looked scary and just as deranged, but she was different. She held herself well. She was very much in control of her every action, and that was the scariest part of all.

"Hello hole..." Harley muttered to herself. Earlier that day Harley and Ivy had spent the school day hacking away at electrical wires, planting bombs, spilling gasoline droplets here and there. "Goddamn..."

Ivy and Harley stood back and observed their soon-to-be masterpiece. after painting the school with a fresh, thick coat of oil, laced with ammonia and trace amounts of embalming fluid.

Harley needed Gotham to remember this, "till the day it burns," she sighed dreamily. She took a deep breath and began to climb her way down the building. "Sit back and watch the fireworks, Gotham."

"It's gonna be dynamite!" Ivy cheered.

Harley smirked, setting off the detonators, "Quite literally." Her and Ivy walked away from teh scene with confidence boiling through them, not even turning back to watch their own show.


	9. Baby,

This was obscene, but even the most obscene moments could make the corners of those crimson lips flip upward to form the most vomit-inducing smile known to haunt even the most villainous minds who walked the grimy streets of Gotham city.

He was back (he could never be parted for long from his beloved civilians), and was... giddy. So excited he could almost cry.

Almost.

How long had he been gone? One day...? Two?... Three... even?

He had been gone for a total of three days and had already wreaked havoc in two seperate cities, miles apart.

It was delicious.

It was incredible.

It was front page.

The school she'd blown to pieces, taking well over a hundred lives with it, the Riddler... all with the help of some over-the-top nut job nature activist. He loved it.

He'd created Harvey two-face and now Harley Quinn. The world needed to know that even the best can burn.

The Joker was back, and he was going to show everyone just how bad things could really get.

"Show time!" He announced, stepping out from the dark of Harley's room. He had attempted to stalk her, but things never go according to plan. He couldn't contain his excitement.

Harley woke with a jolt, and then squeeled, tacling himiwth hugs and kisses. He stood there, taking it.

"Puddin'! Where've you been! I missed you! I love you!" she hugged him one last time before slapping him across the face.

"HOW DARE YOU!" she launched herself at him, but he held her down with his crushing grip. "Shh...sh..sh..shush..." he mock soothed.

"Why are you even here?" she sobbed helplessly.

'I need you to do something for me."

"Anything!" Harley said, wide-eyed and dreamily.

He muttered his demands in her ear.

"NO!" she cried out.

"Yes," he forced her back even closer to him, so close to breaking ribs... he loved the rush.

"NEVER!" she screamed, flailing around.

"Honey, are you alright?" she heard the hint of concern in her mothers voice as the Joker slammed her onto her back and grabbed her by the neck, ready to strangle her.

"HELP ME!" she shouted, writhing in agony as she head was slammed into the bed frame and she slipped into unconsciousness.

When her mother opened the doorHarley looked dead and her bedroom window was wide open.

Harley awoke with a heavy heart, lungs of ice, blue lips, and numb eyes. She opened those eyes and looked around lazily. Everything hurt, and her skin was white as snow. She was frozen. "Mom…" she moaned and groaned. It hurt to breathe, and felt even worse to speak. 'No one's gonna hear me like this," she thought to herself. She lay around for a few minutes to gather her energy, and when she felt she was ready, she screamed. It pierced the morning sky. Harley heard muffled voices and shuffling. Then she heard banging on her door.

"Harley?!" It was her, banging violently on the door and practically ripping the knob out of it. "Dad…" her voice rasped. Her door was frozen.

"Harleen, you open this door right now!" her mother screamed.

"I CAN'T BREATHE!" she roared and began wheezing, gasping and coughing desperately to get some air.

"Shut up Helen," she heard her dad mutter, talking to her mom, and kicked down the door. Six eyes bulged, including those of her younger sister Halley.

"Connor…" Helen Quinzel breathed her husbands name, unable to process what was going on. The room seemed frozen solid. Halley was the first to leave, running to get her hair dryer. Connor was next and went to call the police. Helen stayed the longest until it hit her.

"You hang in there baby." and ran to boil pots of water.

* * *

"When you said that you needed something other than the Joker to occupy you and your spare time, I assumed that-"

"Alfred, I don't need this right now. I was hoping for _one_, not a complete outbreak." Bruce argued.

Alfred grunted.

Bruce took in a deep breath and began to rephrase what he'd just said, "What I mean, is that… Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, the Riddler… I can handle. But it's not just them anymore. The Jokers' out there now, the Riddler's dead, Scarecrow's trying to get back into the spotlight, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, the Penguin's up to something, and all this ice is just… bizarre, but it means something too." He was pacing now, organizing, calculating. "It has to."

"I have to get away. I don't have anyone to help, I don't have anyone to help me with…" He was breaking a sweat. When was the last time he'd been so scared? He almost couldn't remember.

And then he did.

'_Have to get away.'_

_

* * *

_**Thank much for reading. ;D **

**Please review!**

**Harley REALLY goes insane in this one.  
**


	10. Thinking of You

Jonathan Crane was blushing. He pushed his glasses up as they began to slide down the bridge of his nose. He paced around the library until he found her. She was beautiful. He watched the brown-haired angel from behind an old copy of some psychological book. She watched him from behind a book about Botany, the study of plants. She was wearing a tight dark green sleeveless turtleneck sweater, a light brown pencil skirt, and black strappy heels. She had pearl studs in her ears and her thick luscious hair was held up in a high ponytail. He couldn't stop staring. Neither could she.

As soon as she stood up and glanced over at him, he turned back to the book. Began to sweat as he heard her footsteps near.

"Hello again," she smiled nervously, holding the thick book to hide her stomach.

"I'm… sorry?" He pretended not to remember her name, though in his mind it repeated like a broken record.

"Oh," she laughed, "we met last time…" she studied his face for any sort of recognition. "Pamela Isley…"

"Ah, yes. The Botanist? Correct?"

* * *

Pamela Isley roamed the streets dressed to impress. Forest green dress, instead of heels she sported s pair of dark brown knee-length with a two inch heel and pointed toe.

She looked amazing, to say the least.

She walked into a tavern on the outskirts of Gotham, hoping to stir up some trouble. Pamela had done her hair that day just for the occasion. Now instead of a bushy mass that reached to her hips, it was thinned, straightened, layered, and cut beautifully; leaving her with wispy locks that reached the middle of her back.

There was no doubting how attractive she was. Even during the short walk from the doorway to the counter she received four whistles, a slap to the bottom, and three unmoving stares.

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asked seductively, eyes trailing to her almost fully exposed breasts, a smile left to linger on his rough lips. Pamela smirked, flipping her hair.

"Screwdriver," she whispered, turning her head slightly, setting her elbows on the counter and resting her chin in the palms of her hands.

"Right away," he said, giving a not-so-friendly smile as he threw a stained towel over his shoulder and walked to gather the ingredients, the glasses, himself. As soon as he left she spun around on the bar stool and eyed the other customers. That's when she spotted him, yet he seemed to have had his eyes onher the entire time. "I knew you'd come back doll face," he snickered, bringing his shot glass to his lips and throwing his head back.

"All talk, no action, aren't you?"

"You're going to be put away in the slammer for a long time."

The bartender walked over with her drink and she paid him quickly; taking a sip, she glided over to the man to whom she had been talking.

"That's what the last one said," she stated with a sigh and sat in the chair across from him.

Almost instantly five men appeared behind her, "Naw, this one's getting a nice padded room." the cop who had slapped her butt in the way in remarked.

"The lat one," the man she sat across from began, taking a second swig of tequila, " did not have back up, or a warrant." One of the cops who had whistled busted out a pair of handcuffs. Pamela scoffed and put her hand up to distance herself from him, "Hold up Romeo, Ivy's not into that," she spat bitterly.

She picked up her glass and turned to the first man, "I'll go quietly this time," she took a long gulp.

"After I've finished my drink."

* * *

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." Harley croaked, wearing a neck brace. The song was wrong in every single way imaginable, but it was the only one she could think of that made her smile.

_"Honey, I love you,"_ she liked to imagine him whispering those words to her late at night.

It had been a week since she had been attacked in her sleep. One week since someone had tried to recreate an Ice Age in her bedroom. One week since Batman had been seen on the city's streets.

Harley could feel her vocal cords ripping to shreds, "You make me happy,"

She cried. "When skies are gray."

All hope seemed lost. She missed being Harleen Quinzel.

"Harleen," her mother spoke softly from the dining room table. "_Please. _ You're bringing everyone down."

Harley's father was off at work and her younger sister was at school. "You'll never know dear, how much I..." she shifted her body to peer at her mother from the couch. "How much I... love... you." She would never stop. _Not for this bitter old bat._

"Harleen Quinzel, stop it!" Her mother shouted and Harley stood up, walking into her room and slammed the door shut behind her. It was still pretty much soaked, but Harley had set up a few heaters in the hopes of drying up some of the moisture. She figured it was better than the cold frostbitten weather outside.

Harley got on her knees and sat before her dresser, sliding it open only slightly, reaching in to retrieve the gun.

"Please don't take my sunshine away."

* * *

**It has been a VERY long time since i've posted on this story, and while I re-read this one, It's no where near as good as I thought it had been at the time. But, to keep in it in sync with the rest of the story, I'm leaving it as is.**


	11. Keeps me Up

His forehead was already wettened with sweat when it began to snow. Which was odd, because he was lying in his emptied bathtub naked and overheated in the enclosed, windowless bathroom.

Jonathan realized what was happening and was utterly baffled, but he didn't have the strength to react. He couldn't rationalize anything at that point. He honestly couldn't even remember what had made him so sick in the first place.

The only motion he could make was to flicker his eyes in a awkward manner in an attempt to fully see what was happening, but because he could barely open his eyes, this was useless.

Jonathan felt almost paralyzed. He felt like he was dying. So cold. So hot. The snow that slowly filled the bathtub and blanketed itself around him didn't help.

"Hel-" he wanted to call out for help, then remembered how alone he was a quickly gave up.

* * *

As it deepened into the core of Winter, Bruce found himself in thick socks and a sweater and sweatpants, huddled up in the bed of a vacation home in Hawaii. It definitely wasn't as cold as it was back in Gotham, it wasn't snowing. But it was breezy, and cold, and damp. A light rain padded against the windows.

This was different kind of cold for him. In Gotham it was cold and dry. In Hawaii it was cold and damp, and it was by far hundreds of times worse. He had learned that the weather in Hawaii was already bouncing around. There had actually been sun earlier. His latest goal was to relax, and soak up what sun he could before the end of the week. Before it was time to go back to fighting.

Bruce realized that he never should have left. Neglect could do nothing but worsen the situation. He wasn't running away again, this was… a vacation, he tried to convince himself. Still, he couldn't help but feel regret.


	12. All Night

"Okay… let's do this." the greasy-haired man spoke to his reflection in the grimy motel mirror. He wasn't nervous. He wasn't scared. He wasn't empty. In fact, if anything, he was overjoyed. He couldn't wait. He couldn't wait to walk back through the halls to his padded walls. Talk to the others. Corrupt the already corrupted. He lived for it.

A corner of the smudged mirror held a photograph of his love. Harleen Quinzel.

"My baby," he said bitterly through his rotting teeth as he looked from the picture of her back to his own reflection. Then he pulled off the picture and slid it into a pocket on the inside of his purple dress jacket.

He gave a wide smile, staring at his own reflection in curiosity.

"Let's test her love,"

* * *

He was better. He was smarter. He was stronger. But her was alone, again. His intelligence had led him to it, again.

"Carol," he whispered, looking drearily at a piece of his own machinery that encased both of his legs.

He felt like a transformer.

He sucked in a deep breath and basked in the memories of his lost love. She had been a retired model. And the man had been in shock when the young woman had professed her love for him eight years earlier.

He remembered her scent, like fresh mint and peonies. Her eyes had been so full of life and wanderlust. He vowed to cherish her for the rest of eternity. Give her everything she needed, take her everywhere she wanted.

'I love you,' he could practically hear her sweet voice whisper. He constantly wondered how anyone like him could have been so lucky.

He remembered long days spent in bed. Spending hours kissing her bare skin, running his fingers through her chocolate brown hair.

A single kiss from her could wash away every worry the days presented.

The man sat on the rooftop of his three story suburban home, looking down at the healthy green lawn. Her roses. Her daisies. Her sunflowers.

He would have his revenge.

* * *

_ finite._


End file.
